


Lifeline

by CallToMuster



Series: Whumptober 2020 [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Gen, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, That's Not How The Force Works, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27025660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallToMuster/pseuds/CallToMuster
Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn wakes up after Naboo to find that Obi-Wan Kenobi still has not.{Written for Whumptober 2020. Day 15: "Magical Healing"}
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Whumptober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948819
Comments: 18
Kudos: 120





	Lifeline

Qui-Gon Jinn woke up. 

That in and of itself was rather surprising; he’d been pretty sure in that reactor room that that was the end. But no, he was staring at soft-shaded walls, and yes, he could smell the faint scent of incense burning somewhere that meant he was in the Halls of Healing.

Then he sat up, and that was a whole other surprise. The ease, the lack of pain… He patted his stomach and felt nothing out of the ordinary, but that could not possibly be true. He vividly remembered being stabbed by that Zabrak’s lightsaber, and that was not something one could just shrug off. But no, when he opened his robes for a visual inspection, all he found was smooth skin. 

Was he dead? Was this all a dream? Or were the Temple healers much better than he’d ever known?

“Ah, Master Jinn, you’re awake,” Master Healer Vokara Che said as she swept into the room. 

“Wha--” Qui-Gon broke off into a fit of coughing as the words aggravated his throat. It seemed he hadn’t spoken in a while. What “a while” was though, he didn’t know. A week? A month? He remembered the smooth skin on his stomach and mentally raised his estimation. A year?

“Here, drink this,” Vokara Che said, quickly filling a cup with water and handing it to him. He drank gratefully, feeling the cold water soothe his throat.

Qui-Gon tried again. “What happened?” 

“What do you remember?” was Vokara Che’s response.

Qui-Gon frowned. “I remember Naboo. Fighting the Zabrak. Getting stabbed.”

“Anything else?

“...No?”

The healer nodded. “I’m not surprised. How are you feeling?”

“I feel…” He frowned. “Fine. Good, even. Which shouldn’t be possible.”

Vokara Che’s face darkened. “No, it shouldn’t be.”

Well, he hadn’t exactly wanted the healer to _agree_ with him about the surprising nature of his survival. He opened his mouth to speak but Vokara Che held up her hand. 

“Since you’re awake, there’s someone you should see.”

She started towards the door and, with a quick gesture, beckoned for him to follow. They walked down the maze of hallways in the Halls, Vokara Che striding confidently and Qui-Gon needing a minute or two to really get his legs under him. Vokara Che eventually stopped beside a door in the long-term ICU, and Qui-Gon just got more confused. But again, she stopped his questions in their tracks.

“Prepare yourself,” she said, and before Qui-Gon could ask what exactly he was supposed to prepare himself for, she opened the door and went in.

The lights inside were set to a perpetual dusk, casting a soft light throughout the room. Masters Yoda and Windu were sitting around a bed containing a humanoid shape. A quick, cursory glance at the face did not immediately yield results; the oxygen mask and various tubes prevented a prompt identification. Both Yoda and Mace looked up at his entrance.

“Master Qui-Gon,” Yoda said, sounding somewhat surprised. “Good to see you awake, it is.”

“Thank you, Master,” Qui-Gon replied, still a bit unsure what he was doing there. 

“Have a seat.” Mace gestured towards a spare chair in the corner of the room. Qui-Gon obligingly hooked his foot around one of the legs and dragged it closer to the bed before sitting down.

“How long has it been?” he asked, once he was settled. 

“Three weeks since Naboo,” Mace answered, eyeing him carefully. 

“What happened with,” he waved his hand to encompass everything. “You know. All of that. Where’s Ani?”

“In the crèche, young Skywalker is,” Master Yoda hummed. 

Qui-Gon breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t exactly sure why the Council had seemingly changed their minds on taking Anakin in as a Jedi but he was not going to look a gift nerf in the mouth. 

“And Obi-Wan?” he asked, his Padawan coming to mind. Obi-Wan was usually one to wait around in the Halls for him when he was injured, so it was rather strange that he hadn’t seen him yet.

Silence. Something strange stirred in Qui-Gon’s chest as the pause grew longer and longer. 

“Not well, Obi-Wan is,” Master Yoda finally said, and before Qui-Gon could ask any more questions, gestured with his gimer stick to the figure on the bed. 

Why was whoever was on the bed important at a time like this? Qui-Gon had to find his Padawan! He got up, prepared to storm out of whatever charade Yoda and Mace had put him in, when he saw the man on the bed’s face from a new angle. That nose… Those cheekbones… The glint of auburn hair… 

Qui-Gon sat back on the chair heavily.

“What…” He swallowed. “What happened?” 

“Dying, you were,” Master Yoda told him, folding his hands on top of his gimer stick. “Wanted to change that, Obi-Wan did.”

Beside him, Mace let out a huff. “He _did_ change that.”

“Do or do not,” Qui-Gon murmured, feeling dazed.

Master Yoda humphed and went on. “Open himself up to the Force, Obi-Wan did. Let it run through him. Saved you, it did, but almost killed, Obi-Wan was. Found him, the Nubians did, lying across your chest. Wake the two of you they could not. Brought you both back immediately we did, but change Obi-Wan has not.”

Qui-Gon frowned. “What do you mean? He’s… in a coma?”

“Essentially, yes,” Mace said. “He gave up so much of himself saving you that the healers aren’t sure what’s left.”

He felt his mouth drop open. “ _What?”_ He felt a bit like a broken holorecord, saying the same thing over and over again, but he really couldn’t help it.

“Reach for him in the Force,” Master Yoda instructed, a soft tinge of regret in his voice. 

Qui-Gon automatically complied, stretching out with his senses. Master Yoda he noticed first, of course; that towering pillar of wisdom was hard to miss in the Force. Mace blazed with his own familiar hard strength as well. Qui-Gon expected Obi-Wan’s presence to be immediately noticeable as well, but it was so much more… muted that he had to be a little more discerning. Obi-Wan was there, but he was no longer the brightness Qui-Gon was used to. Instead, he was dim, weak. Warped.

Qui-Gon’s face felt wet, and it was only after his hand reached up to wipe the wetness away that he realized it was tears. “Oh, Padawan…” he breathed. 

“Give you some time together, we will,” he heard Master Yoda say. He barely noticed as the two others left, leaving Qui-Gon alone with the shell of his Padawan.

 _No,_ he told himself. _That’s not fair._ Obi-Wan was alive. There was still something of him left, there had to be. Otherwise what was the point? 

He had found Anakin Skywalker, and for a few days there was a new center to his universe. The boy was such a blazing presence in the Force that it was hard to focus on others. And so, Qui-Gon realized, he had neglected the light that was in front of him, had been in front of him the whole time. All Obi-Wan’s life, he had just wanted to be there for Qui-Gon. And he had, through everything. From the very beginning on Bandomeer even, when twelve year old Obi-Wan had offered to detonate his own slave collar as a means to ensure Qui-Gon’s survival. And now Obi-Wan might have paid the ultimate sacrifice in giving up himself for Qui-Gon. It was, in some ways, a fate worse than death. Death meant returning to the fabric of the universe; there is no death, there is the Force. Now though, Obi-Wan was tethered to the physical world but was… hollow. 

Qui-Gon looked at his Padawan’s face again and reached out to stroke his cheek. He couldn’t do it very easily; the oxygen mask was quite large, and there were sensor patches placed sporadically around his face and head, but he managed. His skin was smooth, soft, not yet marked by age. 

Qui-Gon’s heart broke a little bit at that. Would he even get the chance to grow old, to experience life: the stresses, the loves, the weariness, the exultation? 

That was a question no one could answer. But whatever happened, Qui-Gon swore, he would be there for Obi-Wan as Obi-Wan always had for him.

Qui-Gon’s hand travelled down and clutched Obi-Wan’s own, lifeline seeking lifeline, the adrift reassuring the adrift. 

He did not let go for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> This one fought me. Not sure how satisfied I am with it. 
> 
> Regardless, thanks for reading! I hope to publish one or two more fics for Whumptober this year.
> 
> {Come talk with me on my [Tumblr](https://calltomuster.tumblr.com)!}


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